by Pam Crooks
Gina pressed her fingers to her lips. It didn’t matter how Collette got them or that she took the time to look or that she hadn’t bothered with the formality of introductions since they knew who the other was, anyway—
She liked them!
“Do you think so?” she asked.
“Your talent excites me, Gina!” Her perfectly tinted lips formed an awed O as she picked up one design after another. “These are as good as any in Paris or London, and yet you don’t imitate a particular style. You’ve taken what’s fashionable and adapted it for the American woman. You’ve designed her as special and unique. She’ll feel heavenly in your gowns, Gina. And she’ll pay any price to be that way.”
Gina tried not to be swept away by Collette’s enthusiasm. Surely, she had a tendency to exaggerate. The gowns couldn’t be that striking.
Could they?
“This one—I must have it.” Collette held up the tea gown design, the one Gina envisioned created in old-rose peau de soie and brocaded with delicate flowers, the one she’d been working on at the West Camp. “It’s inspired by la maison Rouff, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Gina marveled that she recognized the style. “But it is not finished yet, and—”
“And it’s extravagant and glorious already. I want it in my shop.”
“Oh.” Her mind swam from the possibility. “You do?”
Collette set the design down and leaned forward, her heavy-lashed eyes wide with excitement. “Come work with me, Gina! We’ll go to New York and buy bolts and bolts of luxurious fabric and every kind of trim imaginable. I’ll give you room in the back and you can sew the dresses yourself. Or I’ll hire you a staff. You’ll have your own exclusive clientele in no time, and then you’ll have your very own shop and be rich and reputable, and oh, say yes, Gina!”
Gina didn’t know what to think, much less whether to agree. Could her dream be coming true? Was it possible?
“She’ll never let you go back to a factory, you know,” Graham said, smiling. “Might as well say yes and save yourself the trouble later.”
Happiness swept through Gina, and she smiled, then, too. “I am honored to work in your shop. Thank you for asking me.”
Collette laughed gaily and hurried toward her on a cloud of perfume. She flung her arms around Gina. “It is I who should be thanking you!” Suddenly, she drew back. “We’ll have to discuss the details later. You’re having dinner with the president tomorrow, aren’t you? You need something exquisite to wear. Let me look at you.” Her approving appraisal took Gina in from head to toe. “With a body like yours, you can wear anything. Come with me.”
She led Gina toward an elegantly appointed corner of the shop. Along the way, she scooped up corsets, petticoats and hosiery. Upon reaching a small dressing area, she laid them all out on a brocade settee.
“We’ll get you started with lingerie. I already have several gowns in mind for you. You’ll look stunning in them. I’ll be right back.”
Swishing the heavy velvet drape closed and cloaking Gina in privacy, she left. Gina stood before the full-length mirror and considered her Sunday best dress, the navy-flowered one once her favorite, but now looking hopelessly simple and drab amongst Collette’s elegance.
Gina was afraid she’d wake up and find herself living in another of her visiones. Yet after she removed her dress, the cool air against her skin felt real. She stepped into one of the ruffled petticoats and tied the narrow ribbon at her waist, and well, the crisp fabric felt real, too. And oh, the corset, black sateen and edged in lace, the way it fit and plumped her breasts was more feminine and alluring than anything she could have dreamed.
Her struggles to fasten the corset were real, too. This one hooked at the side, from under her arm down to her waist, and how could she manage it all but one-handed?
The velvet drape swished open again, and a rueful laugh escaped her. Her glance lifted to ask Collette for help—
But she found Creed instead, wearing the deep brown wool frock coat and creased trousers.
She took a startled step back. He’d never left America, after all. And he’d been in the shop when she arrived, not somebody’s husband, and no longer a war-hardened mercenary. Instead, a man who exuded polish and sophistication and power.
“Don’t be shy, honey,” he drawled, his whiskey eyes drifting in a lazy perusal over the sagging corset she clutched against her. “I’ve seen you naked, remember?”
Her breath caught. Did he think she could forget?
“You should not be in here,” she insisted. “What will Collette think?”
“She’ll think this is where I belong.” He appeared amused. “I’m not the first man who claimed the right to help his woman dress. Or undress, as the case might be.”
Her chin lifted. “We both know I am not what you say. Your woman.”
“No?” He stepped closer, filling the miniature room with his presence, rocking her world with his blatant masculinity. “What are you then?”
Her brow arched. “Someone to entertain you until it is time for you to leave again?”
He stilled. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Gina. I’m staying in America. For good.”
She rolled her eyes. She knew the deep need he had to protect his country. “What makes you think such a thing?”
“You do.”
“I make you not think like a soldier anymore?”
“Something like that.” With one lean finger, he traced the curve of her bare shoulder. “I’ve fallen in love with you. Been hard to think about anything else once I realized it.”
Sadness settled heavy in her chest. To believe him, to hope for a life together… how could she, when it would be impossible?
“Comes a time when a man’s priorities shift and change.” His head lowered, and he pressed his mouth where his finger had been, his lips warm against her skin. “I’ve missed having a family. Going back to the ranch helped me see that.” He trailed kisses to her neck, and she savored the sensation. “I want a wife and kids. I want them with you, Gina.”
“We cannot.” She vanquished a stirring of hope. “We are too different.”
“How?”
“Many years, you travel the world. Soon, America, the War Department, will need you again. It cannot be helped.” She hated the words she had to say. “Already, I have left one home. The one I have in Sicily. I find a new life with Mama here in Los Angeles. And now, Collette gives me my dream… I cannot leave here if you must fight for your country again, Creed.”
“I know.”
“It is not fair to expect you not to be a soldier anymore because of me.”
“There are lots of ways to be a soldier, Gina. Fighting overseas is just one of them.”
She eyed him doubtfully. “I cannot ask you to change who you are.”
He turned pensive, trailing his fingertip along the curve of her breast, then into the valley between, his palm brushing against the lace trimming of the corset along the way. She shivered, and his arms took her against him, warming her.
“You may as well know President McKinley invited me to his private dinner tomorrow night, too. He’s asked that I take a position with the Army based here in California. He’d like me to work with the War Department to fight anarchism and revolution in this part of the country.”
She gasped at the honor. “That is wonderful!”
“I’ve spent some time with the Old Man the past couple of days, too. Guess fighting the Sokolovs helped him see the importance of what I’ve been doing the past six years.”
“He is proud of you, too.”
“So he says.”
But she heard the warmth in his low voice, the pleasure that filled him in knowing such a thing. She thought of his bravery in climbing the trestle bridge, the shrewd strategy he’d devised to surprise Nikolai, his reckless determination to keep Alex from reaching McKinley. How could Gus Sherman not be proud of what his son had accomplished?
“He has missed you,” she said. “He
is happy when you are with him on his ranch.”
Creed frowned. “I’m not a cowboy. Took him a good long while to understand that.”
“And now he does.”
He nodded. “He’s got Marcus to lean on. The Old Man’s learned to appreciate that, too.”
She toyed with the button of his shirt. Thinking of the Sherman legacy which had formed Creed into the man he was, she couldn’t help feeling small and ineffectual.
“He likes you, Gina,” he murmured, as if he could read her mind. “Mary Catherine, too. You fit in, like you were born to be with us.”
She recalled their kindnesses, their quick need to make her feel welcome. “You have a fine family, Creed. The ranch, it is so beautiful.”
“Glad you think so, because you’ll be staying there a spell.”
She blinked up at him. “I am?”
“You think I’d let you go back to those damn tenements? We’ve already moved your things out.”
She stared in disbelief. “What? Who?”
“Smoke and Hube, Marcus and me. We went in and cleared the place out.” He frowned. “Didn’t take us long. You don’t have much.”
Gina wasn’t sure if she should be thrilled or annoyed with his high-handedness. Had he even thought to consult her?
He kissed her nose. “Your mother can recuperate in the main house once she’s released from Good Samaritan. She’s healing well, I hear.”
She needed a moment to comprehend it all. “Graham tells you so?”
He nodded. “He’s been keeping me updated on everything you’ve been doing the past couple of days. I’m looking forward to meeting her, by the way.”
Then Creed hadn’t forgotten her, as she’d feared. She cocked her head. “You bring my sketches to Collette, too?”
“They’re damned good, Gina. I hoped she’d give you the opportunity you deserved.” He hesitated, looking more vulnerable than a mercenary should ever be. “You’re an independent businesswoman now. Might be you won’t have room in your life for a man right now, but I’m asking that you’ll find some for me.” His head lowered, and he kissed her with incredible tenderness. “I love you, Gina. I want to marry you. Will you be my wife, for always?”
The remnants of her misgivings vanished—poof!—and elation soared through her. Having Creed for her husband would complete her perfect life in America. The Great Land of Opportunity. She abandoned her unfastened corset and flung her arms around his neck. “Yes, yes, yes!”
The velvet drape swished open. Collette, her arms full of exquisitely expensive gowns, stopped short.
“Oh, my.” But she didn’t look surprised. Or offended. She smiled. “I brought dresses.”
Creed’s glance lifted. He winked at her in the mirror. “You got any for a wedding?”
Her gaze took in Gina, half-clad in his arms. She winked back. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“We’re in need of one.”
Her eyes twinkled. “It seems so.” She stepped past the drape again but held back. “She’ll make a beautiful bride, Mr. Sherman. Don’t you think?”
But Gina kept him too busy with her kisses for him to answer.
T H E E N D
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About Pam
While expecting her first child (more years back than she cares to count), Pam Crooks read her very first romance novel, and she’s been in love with them ever since. She grew up in the ranch country of western Nebraska, and it was inevitable she’d eventually write lots of books about cowboys. Pam still lives in Nebraska with her husband (who is not a cowboy), four married daughters and a whole slew of perfect grandchildren.
She’s a long-time member of RWA and RAH, her local chapter. Pam is also one of the founders of Petticoats & Pistols, a popular blogsite for western romance. She loves to cook, hang out at her lake cabin, and decorate birthday cakes for anyone who will let her.
To see more books Pam has written, visit www.pamcrooks.com
Or visit her author page on Amazon
Or check out her page on Bookbub
